


Philosophy

by appending_fic



Series: Guardians of the Planes [2]
Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game), Eberron, Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Planescape (Roleplaying Game), Planescape: Torment
Genre: Angelic Possession, Bad Decisions, Building A Team, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, D&D Universe, Divergent Timelines, Magic, Other, Possession, Pre-Relationship, Pre-Slash, Rescue Missions, Self-Sacrifice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-22
Updated: 2018-06-09
Packaged: 2019-05-10 07:18:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14732414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/appending_fic/pseuds/appending_fic
Summary: Starlord's dad is a celestial - a servant of the gods of good and law, so Rocket's annoyance at him is perfectly justified. It had nothing to do with Rocket getting them on the wrong side of a bunch of robots who won't forget being crossed, him being sick of being bossed around by a bard, or anything to do with how Rocket feels about Starlord.Lucky this has nothing to do with the Divinity Stones.





	1. Daddy Issues

"Do you think they'll come back?"

Rocket flipped one lens up away from his eyes and another back down. He pushed aside a splintered piece of metal, examining where the lines of magic potential energy should have been moving unbroken, scowling when he found breaks in the crystal bands. He felt a flare of annoyance; he should've made something to help him fix this shit, rather than let Peter talk him into making the team useless crap.

"No, seriously, do you think they'll come after you? I might have missed a lot of the, you know, nuance, but I'm pretty sure this is your fault."

"Hey, Groot, can we get a gag in here?"

Nebula chuckled, a noise Rocket tried to ignore as he bent down to work, even though they both knew she'd won this round. She'd been needling him for hours, a game interrupted only when Rocket found an excuse to get far enough from the galley where they'd left Nebula tied up that he couldn't hear her. Groot wandered in, either in response to Rocket's call or concern that Rocket was going to kill their prisoner.

"I'm gonna go check the perimeter. Make sure Nebula doesn't talk herself into a sucking chest wound."

"I am Groot."

"Yeah, well, it'll be easier, then. Don't die!"

"I am Groot."

"We still get half-price if she's dead, so _seriously_ don't put yourself out."

Rocket stormed off rather than continue that conversation, because he was still mad at Groot. There was a certain amount of recklessness you could afford if you knew someone in your team had a scroll of _raise dead_ handy, but getting yourself _disintegrated_ was not cool, especially when you had friends who might get broken up over thinking you were dead and _beyond saving_.

It also wasn't cool getting buddy-buddy with a bunch of people you'd just met, ignoring your partner and taking their side all the time, but Groot had given up caring what Rocket thought, apparently. Rocket fumed over that through his careful walk of the perimeter, over the slow dissolution of the life he'd had. He thought it'd be cool, flying with Peter for a bit, but hadn't expected Gamora, or Drax, or _Peter_. Peter, who _everyone_ listened to over Rocket, who kept setting up rules, ordering Rocket around like he was a sodding cabin boy, instead of second in command and _practically_ half owner.

When Rocket returned to the Milano, Nebula looked up at him, grin sharp. She looked like she wanted to stretch out, but her bindings prevented it.

"You came back."

"Gotta protect my investment," Rocket snapped. "Got a one-fifth share in your bounty." He folded his arms and rested against the galley counter. "St. Cuthbert's puppets are offering a hell of a lot of jink for you."

"Which you're going to need once the Gearheads set the word out. Stealing from modrons? They'll hunt you to the ends of the Planes. They don't lose interest. They don't get tired."

Rocket growled. "Can you just stitch it?"

"Look, you want me to be quiet, stuff a gag in my mouth. But until then, I'm going to enjoy every minute I have before the Prime Justicar hurls me into the Negative Energy Plane. And I _am_ enjoying myself. I especially liked the part where Starlord's father straight up said you wouldn't be welcome in the Upper Planes. I don't know if _you_ were looking at your captain-"

" _Pike off_!" Rocket _had_ been looking at Peter when the man - the sodding _Celestial_ \- had gently explained Rocket wouldn't be _comfortable_ on his home plane. That the powers of goodness that suffused the plane would cause Rocket enough discomfort he shouldn't be there. It was confirmation of what he'd been feeling for weeks, realizing he didn't belong on the Milano with the rest of them. 

It'd been clear Peter had been thinking something similar, from the constant criticisms of Rocket's 'unreasonable' behavior. Rocket could get stealing a teammate's shit being unhende, but Peter seemed to think lying, stealing, and precisely-directed violence were somehow inappropriate except when he decided it was okay, part of some unspoken rules everyone except Rocket had signed onto.

"Come on, I'm curious. You've got a good crew, here. Gamora's," Nebula paused, " _the best_ ," she spat, "and your captain-"

"Not _my_ captain. Never agreed to his barkle." Rocket kicked his heel against the counter behind him. "I'm just hanging around until he gets styxed and taking the ship for myself."

"Sounds like he's got you on a pretty short leash," Nebula chuckled.

And even though he knew it's what she wanted, Rocket, feeling a surge of anger, snarled at Nebula. "I'm not somebody's _pet_!"

Nebula laughed. "I don't know what they did to you, Rocket, but you're an animal. Untamed. Aggressive. Dangerous."

Rocket didn't know if Nebula was taking a shot in the dark, or if she was some sort of mind-reader, but he slipped down the counter, hands fisting at his sides. He wasn't so weak to let Nebula throw him into memories of what had come before, but it was easy to trigger the memories of what came after. 

The question, after all, was etched in his mind. 

"...And what could change the nature of a man?"

Nebula flinched, and Rocket felt a flare of interest; he'd had little chance to interrogate someone who saw that question as more than a needlessly philosophical one. He'd heard hints and whispers, had bloods taunt him with it. But no one who could tell him what it all meant.

"Heard a lot of bloods ask that," he said. "Never got much of an explanation what it meant."

"It's the fastest way to the dead book," Nebula replied. "People who try to learn the dark of it - try to _answer_ that question - get lost."

"Wha - seriously?" Rocket paced around her, looking Nebula up and down, finding no hint she was lying to him. "It's a _question_. Not even the dark on Her Serenity, just…"

"It wasn't the question. It was who asked it. Chant was one of the Grey Ladies wanted to know what could change the nature of a man, that she styxed anyone who gave her the wrong answer. Nowadays, it's a good way for a blood to threaten someone. Remind you there's questions not worth looking for answers for."

Was that it? Rocket didn't doubt The Collector had been trying to intimidate him. But the first time Rocket had heard it…

_"You want to be more than a weapon? More than a tool to fulfill a madman's dreams? Then tell me...what can change the nature of a man?"_

"Yeah, but there's gotta be an answer, right?"

Gamora shrugged. "Enough people looking for an answer ended up _lost_ I wouldn't look for an answer, even if I _did_ care. I don't need to change - just need to get better."

Rocket didn't have the time to work out a response to that; one of the alarms at the edge of their camp alerted him to intruders approaching the damaged Void ship. He grit his teeth and darted outside. The mechanical traps out there were more or less party favors, ways to hold up intruders until the real show started.

He found two guys strung up by the snare he'd set at the outermost perimeter; one slash of his knife apiece silenced them (pseudodragon venom - not deadly, because Peter didn't trust letting Rocket keep deadly poison on his ship). A rustle nearby ended with a startled shout; Rocket found two targets, covered in glitterdust, stumbling into one another from the dust in their eyes, a hundred yards away. Two more cuts, two more down, and then he was closing on a trio ensnared in vines sprouting from the grasses below them.

Someone grabbed him from behind, taking Rocket's dagger, at which point he bit through the dude's ankle and darted to the ensnared ones, drawing his backup weapon, which was pretty sharp, even if it did have a tendency to light up when he used it in the dark. Three (four) down, and Rocket hoped Groot was keeping an eye on Nebula. He offered a second hope that Groot wouldn't get it in his head to sacrifice himself, because that was apparently a thing people did on this shitshow. Peter'd try to do it _twice_ within a day of meeting Rocket, and he didn't even _like_ Rocket.

And then Rocket heard the sound he hated most in all of the Planes: the click of a dozen or more crossbow bolts being slotted into position.

"Well, well, well. Look what we got here - a thieving raccoon trying to, what, take out my whole ship?"

Rocket had heard Yondu's voice twice in his life, but the self-assurance, arrogance in that voice was so much like Peter there was no mistaking it. Rocket dropped the stun-stick and turned, carefully. It took a lot of self control not to stare; thinking of the guy who'd (mostly) raised Peter on the Ravager's Voidships, he'd not imagined a goblin, not much taller than Rocket, with skin a vibrant blue shade and wearing a bright red helm Rocket would bet his - well, not his, but someone's - left arm was a device to amplify psionic powers. 

"What in the Beastlands's a raccoon?"

"Mangy vermin," Yondu replied, taking a swaggering step forward. "Not the sort of thing I'd expect our boy to hang with; thought he had better taste than that."

"How _dare_ you-"

Yondu let out a sharp whistle, and an arrow darted from his pocket, coming to stop an inch in front of Rocket; if Rocket hadn't stopped when he saw movement, it might have been up against his throat.

"I dare whatever the hell I feel like, _boy_. This is my crew that you've been cutting your way through-"

"I didn't _kill_ any of them."

Yondu scoffed. "I know. Hell of a soft option for the likes of you. If I thought you were the slightest danger to any of us, might be having a different conversation. But maybe you let him get to you. Not a good idea, I promise you that."

"I didn't let-"

"But hey, I'm not here to chat. We're gonna take a nice, easy walk back to Starlord's ship, and we're gonna wait for him to show up so we can get our boy back."

"So we can hand him over to the gearheads," one of the brutes in the back said. 

Yondu's eye twitched. "Yeah, come on."

They walked Rocket back to the ship at arrow-point, but he was running angles. Groot was obviously going to be no help; guy had taken a _meteor swarm_ to keep Rocket from getting killed (to keep the rest of the crew getting killed, Rocket reminded himself). Nebula was going to jump at a chance to side with the guys holding Rocket hostage.

And Peter…

Guy was a sodding ladywatcher, the number of times he nearly got himself killed on a weekly basis. He was the reason Rocket had made another scroll of _reincarnate_ , because he didn't put it past Peter to get himself killed _harder_ than Groot just to show him up. So it was going to have to be Rocket who got them out of this.

Nebula smirked when she saw Rocket return to the ship trailed by a dozen Ravagers. Groot was rising, arm out like he thought he was still two feet taller and a hundred pounds heavier and could actually throw one of these guys around. Yondu whistled, though, bringing the arrow to the side of Rocket's neck, pointedly, and Groot settled back down.

"And look at this. We've got a bonus here, boys!"

"If you get me out of here-"

"No way, heard there's a Power willing to pay for you. Maybe willing to trade a little forgiveness for a bounty like you."

"Bet you could sell her to St. Cuthbert's puppets and make up for keeping your boy Starlord out of the gearheads' hands," Rocket added. There was a sudden stillness, menace radiating from the other Ravagers. Rocket fought down a grin. He'd talked his way out of messes like this before, creating enough friction and factions that Rocket got lost in the scuffle.

"Never said I was gonna do that, boy."

"Aw, come on, don't paint that trash at me. You had Starlord for what, twenty years? Taught him how to fight, let him sing rather than learn how to really shout. You think any one of these sods really believe you're gonna hand him over to the gearheads?"

"What?" Yondu looked up, brow furrowed as he took in his backup. "What? Come on, I _heard_ the dark of it from the magistrates; this rat's the one who stole from them. You think it makes any difference if we hand over the kid, too?"

"You made us outcasts, Yondu, taking kids in the first place. Ravagers are pirates, thieves, smugglers, and crow-feeders, but we're not soul-brokers. We're not _'loths_." A - Rocket didn't know, half-ogre, or ugly human, or something - stepped out of the knot of Ravagers, pointing at Yondu, prominent scowl on their face. "We lived well, so we thought maybe it was worth it. We took care of the kid, best we could, because you _asked_. But you're gonna torque off the _gearheads_? We can handle being cut off from our community, our people, but the gearheads don't _forget_. For that sort of blek, they send in the magistrates!"

Yondu whistled, and then a guy behind him stepped up and stuck a knife in his back; he collapsed, the arrow dropping to the deck without any further preamble.

The angry guy looked up at Rocket, and his expression morphed into the ugliest smile Rocket had ever seen.

"Now, what do we have here?"

An hour later, in the cell on the Ravager's ship, Rocket covered his ears, trying to block out the screams from the main cabins. He usually enjoyed this sort of shakeup, but Yondu was right - running with Peter had made him soft.

"I am Groot."

"I didn't know they were gonna stick him right there!" Rocket snapped. He heard a desperate scream as they dumped another of Yondu's supporters into the Great Void - perhaps the worst place to give someone a deep dip, after the Negative Energy Plane. Almost anywhere else, there was the hope some elemental or creature of belief might happen across you and help, for their own ends. In the Great Void, without a Voidship, the greatest mercy you could hope for was running into a sphere of annihilation before you suffocated.

"I am Groot."

Rocket shivered, hugging his arms around himself. Groot was right, of course. This was his fault. If he hadn't goaded the new captain, if he hadn't pissed off the entire rest of his crew. The only upside was that Yondu was probably right. Once they handed off Rocket, who'd _actually_ stolen the resonance crystals from the modrons (rare enough to start wars even on the backwoods Prime material they hailed from), the gearheads might not care enough to chase after Peter and the rest.

"Yeah. Inter-planar fuck-up and his stupid tree, that's us."

"I am Groot."

"What? No! He's not coming back for us."

Yondu, stuck in a cell just next to them, laughed, bitterly. "You been with that boy how long that you honestly think that?" His head was bleeding from the rough handling he'd gotten when they removed his psionic trinket. He looked over at Rocket, smirking. "Me, he's not coming for me. I was a terrible, ah, caretaker. Beat him up until he learned how to fight. Dropped him in the Paraelemental Plane of Ice to learn how to survive. Came back knowing the snowflake wardance, though, so I told him I was proud of him."

"Wait. Back up."

"Groot."

"No, no." Rocket waved at Groot to shut him up and drew to the bars between the cells. "That bit about snowflakes."

"Come on, you've seen it. Kid gets in a fight and starts dancing, cutting people's faces off to a beat."

Rocket had. As much as he made fun of Peter for it, they'd survived a couple of fights solely because he could pump up a crew with nothing more than a song out of his little Walkman (Rocket had spent hours staring at the thing, trying to convince himself he could put it back together if he took it apart to find out how it worked). 

And Peter _had game_. Moreso than his ability to shake his ass in a club (or in the face of a barmy paladin with godlike power) would suggest. He could fight like it was a dance, hitting as well, if not as hard, as Drax, stepping out of the way of blows like it was part of the moves.

"And that's called...a snowflake wardance."

"Some fey taught it to him. Not gonna tell her not to call it whatever she wants. And it kicks ass, you know?"

"Yeah, but…" Rocket was gonna give Peter so much shit about this-

Reality crashed on him. Hard. Rocket slumped forward.

"He's not coming. I'm a shitty partner, got the gearheads on him, and then his _dad_ comes along offering to take him away from all this."

"His what?" Yondu slammed into the bars, sending Rocket recoiling as the other man gripped them.

"His dad. Tall dude, scruffy, surrounded by an aura of profound goodness?"

" _That_ dick?"

"Yondu, I hate to say this, but you and me, we're on the wrong side of this. Dude-"

"Ego. His name's Ego."

"Yeah, Ego's a _celestial_. Halo, lit by the inner fire of the gods, the whole works."

"Yeah, but you ever talk to those types? They got the compassion and restraint of a tanar'ri. And him…" Yondu paused, glancing away from Rocket. "Got a way of talking that made everything make sense. He wanted - all he wanted was his kids back, you know? And with the jinx he paid me to do so, never thought much about it."

"Wait. _Kids_?"

"Kraglin, my first mate, never talked to Ego. Asked me, once, where these kids went, after we brought them to their daddy." Yondu swallowed, eyes fixed still on the ground. "And I decided...I wasn't gonna do it anymore. Took his money, took his kid. Some days, dragging a stupid kid through places a kid shouldn't be, I worried I might've fucked that up. Boy should be with his daddy, not a crew of thieves and murderers. And then I figured it out." Yondu raised his head, and his eyes were hard. "Never sent any halos after the kid. Didn't send any after me. Didn't call down the hardheads or the magistrates on me."

Rocket felt a twist in his chest, like a fist clenched around it. He'd felt that, once or twice, during their flight from Mechanus, pursued by monodrones, the worry that Peter's last thought would be that Rocket had gotten him killed. And here, it was the knowledge that Peter's dad hadn't wanted any creature of good or law to know these pirates had kidnapped his son. You didn't do that if you were missing someone you loved. If someone took Peter from _Rocket_ -

"We gotta go after them." 

Yondu snorted and stepped away from the dividing bars. "Not gonna work, kid. There's two score Ravagers on this ship, and Taserface _broke_ my Yaka controller. We aren't getting out of here."

"I am Groot."

"Well, apparently he is an irresponsible douche, because he would have _mentioned_ if he had a spare."

"What does that do for us?"

Rocket turned away from Groot to his (current, temporary) new partner. The man looked serious. "Groot, lay it out for the man."

"I am Groot."

"Exactly!"

"Are you messing with me, boy?"

Rocket snorted, shrugged. "Now, I know you're used to hanging around with your boy Starlord, who knows twelve thousand things, none of them useful. But you're running with _Rocket_ , now. I know a _lot_ of shit. And what I don't know, I can fake. For example," he pushed open the door to his cell. "Now, give me exactly five minutes and we will be on our way out of here."

"What are you doing? One guy sneaks up on us and it's the dead book for us."

"That's what three of those five minutes are for," Rocket growled, putting a quick stitch of adamantine thread into his suit. He slid over to open the door to Yondu's cell. "Now get over here and stand still, unless you want the assassins you've got on this crew to be your scribe." Yondu submitted to Rocket's careful stitchwork, offering no commentary until he was done.

He stretched, testing the pull of the fabric. "What, did you sew armor into this?"

"If some berk tries to stick you by surprise, this'll turn the blow. Hell-" Rocket slapped a hand on his belt and reached for Yondu's. The goblin smirked as Rocket tapped the buckle with his claw.

"You lay hands on my boy a lot, raccoon?"

"Rocket," Rocket snapped back. "And you, get in a shape you can sneak in," he said, pointing at Groot. "You tell him where to find that Yaka thing."

Groot reluctantly took the form of a black cat (twigs still branching from his joints, and fur a little leafy, but it did the trick) and scampered off in the direction of Taserface's quarters. Rocket settled back in his (open) cell, with Yondu next to him. Because the inability to shut up apparently ran in families, it took only a minute before Yondu piped up.

"Still wanna know if you and our Starlord are screwing."

"How is that any of your business?"

"A good friend, a partner, you'd wade through Hades for. A lover...you'd stand down the Lady for. Wanna know how far you wanna go with this."

Rocket grunted. "Wanna chase down Peter's father and tear his wings off if he hurt him. That good enough?"

Yondu gave him a long look; Rocket fought down the urge to squirm under that gaze. Odds were good Yondu _wasn't_ a mindhacker, even if he was a spoonbender, but psions had always made Rocket nervous. Yondu at last nodded.

"Fair enough. Now where's your tree-cat gone?"

"Miao." Groot padded to the cell, holding a red spiked headband in his teeth. He dropped it on the ground before returning to his treant-like form. It was still weird, him not much different in size from Peter, and still adapting to the new body Rocket had grown for him.

"Good job, tree-man. Gonna need you to get to the back of the ship, Rocket. I've gotta clean house." Yondu donned the headband and strode down one of the halls of the ship.

Rocket, who knew the look of a man out for vengeance, hopped up on Groot's shoulder (he stumbled, which was ridiculous; Peter'd managed to adapt to carrying Rocket on his shoulders and hadn't been doing it for years like Groot had before he got his new body). He urged Groot in the direction Yondu had directed, moving stealthily until a crackling noise filled the ship (voice amplification - something Rocket'd seen in warbands, but not ships like this).

And then music started, a lively beat, and a voice. "In a little cafe, just the other side of the border,"

Rocket laughed, and urged Groot on to the beat filling the ship, and the distant screams of mutineers discovering how dangerous you had to be to lead a Ravager ship. Several tried to block Rocket's and Groot's path, but Groot was massive enough still to barrel through them. And then they came upon the back of the ship, where a beautiful space, painted with gold, blue, and polished metal, sat interlocked with the main ship. A slender, tall humanoid, pale, with an arch of hair like Yondu's headband, stood between them. He had a crossbow, but it was pointed down, shaking, as he took in the sight of Groot and Rocket.

"Come a little bit closer, you're my kind of man, so big and so strong…"

"We're with him," Rocket said, jerking his thumb at the sourceless music. "So drop that and let us onboard this...fuck, is this a modular ship?"

The man made a jerky nod, and the crossbow slipped down. "Yondu's with you?"

"Well," there was a trio of screams. "He's coming."

"I'm Kraglin, his first mate-"

"Well, get me onboard this thing and show me where the controls are!"

The ship was magnificent, not so large as the Ravagers' own ship, but Rocket could imagine carrying the whole team around here (if he had a team, after this. If Peter survived, if any of them wanted him around), with a full bridge instead of a tiny cockpit.

"Incoming!" Yondu sprinted toward their ship; behind him, the ship echoed with the screams of a loosed elemental - something massive, to power a Voidship this size. Rocket kicked the partial ship into gear, feeling the hum as the elemental within it roused to awareness.

"Come on, let's get out of here." Yondu cleared the ship; Rocket heard a door slam, and then they were pulling away from the Ravagers' ship as a colossal fire elemental smashed it apart from the inside. They cruised that way for several tense minutes before Yondu appeared, leaning heavily on the walls.

"Nice bit of flying there, Rocket."

"There isn't a thing in the Planes I can't do if I put my mind to it," Rocket retorted, swinging the ship around through the infinite void. "So why don't you spill the dark on Ego's kip so we can teach him a lesson on parenting?"

"Ha! I like you! Yeah, gonna take a while to get there. He lives on a demiplane somewhere in the Astral, but the only portals I know are on the base of the Spire."

Rocket hissed. The Spire atop which Sigil rested negated magic. Within about 500 miles of the place, the magic binding the elemental to most Voidships would fail. There was magic that could get another 200 miles quickly, weaker magic that could get them another 200 in four days, and then they'd be walking for another five. Ten days to get to Peter and the others.

"Well, pike that. I've got a better idea."

"Better'n going where we know my boy is?"

"There's secret ways to everywhere in the Planes, Blue, and secrets never die. So we're going to the guy who knows them."

It was a tricky couple of jumps, and the weird, intrusive navigation required in the Astral Plane, to get back to Knowhere, time enough that Rocket had slept already when Yondu found him on the bridge. The goblin didn't speak for some time, hoping, Rocket guessed, Rocket would break and say something. But Rocket had spent years traveling with someone who could literally say four words, so he was used to quiet. Wasn't gonna let Peter's pirate daddy break him.

"You're going back for him, even if you think he wouldn't for you."

"I don't want him _dead_ , Blue."

"Don't explain yourself to me. You and me, we've got the same nature. Whatever brought us here, made us alike."

"Save me the screed."

"We're criminals, you and me. Grew up hard, learned to live hard."

Rocket grumbled rather than answer. _Groot_ knew nothing about Rocket's history; he wasn't about to spill the dark to Yondu.

Yondu seemed to take that as a cue to continue, sitting in the copilot's seat. "Couple months after we picked the kid up, considered selling him to the 'loths." Rocket's hands tightened around the wheel, but kept quiet, letting Yondu keep on. "I'm a Ravager - a _pirate_! I let him keep his music, taught him how to fight, and woke up one day and realized I'd gone soft."

"So you did something stupid, something you knew he'd never forgive, just to remind him what you are, that _nothing can change that_!" Rocket slammed a fist into the dash, the noise shocking him out of his rage. He was breathing hard, heart racing, and Yondu was staring at him, one eyebrow raised.

"No, but thought about it a lot. Kid shouldn't've learned to trust thieves, trust people like us." Rocket took a shaky breath. It wouldn't do anything to deny being 'people like us', not after his outburst. "Only reason he didn't end up hip-deep in the Blood War is someone told me don't have to change to show someone I care. Don't have to be soft to care. After all, look at us: riding to put a halo in the dead book for messing with our boy."

"He's not _our_ -"

Yondu turned and stabbed at Rocket with his finger. "Don't know if any of this is gonna stick, but if any of it does, make it this: anything you'd styx a celestial for is _yours_."

Rocket chuckled, not quite meaning to.

And then they were there, the massive skull of Knowhere hanging within the silver sky of the Astral Plane. The Collector had, it seemed, found a new part of his collection to act as a receptionist; the silver-skinned dwarf who met them was silent, directing them by gesture. And The Collector was still ageless, living apart from time in the skull of a dead god. He smiled tightly at Rocket, the patch over his left eye a clear indication he'd not left their last encounter unscathed.

"I hope my collection will remain in one piece this time."

"Hey, _you're_ the one who left dangerous artifact lying around where disgruntled employees could get their hands on them." The Collector was glaring, so Rocket shrugged. "Sorry. Slaves."

The Collector huffed. "And what are you here for?"

"We're trying to get the dark on some sod, thought you might know something about him."

"I am not in the business of _releasing_ information."

Rocket shrugged. "Sure, yeah. Get that. Gotta protect your interests. But counterpoint, maybe you hear me out. I tell you what I want, maybe you tell me what you want?"

The Collector's one eye twitched, but he turned, waving them in after him. "Go ahead. It may be I know nothing about what you want."

"Wanna know about a sod named Ego."

The Collector froze, mid-step. "Ego? Might you know what race-"

"He's a celestial."

The Collector sank to rest against one of the many tables in his vault, right hand rising to his forehead. "I had not heard of him for...some time."

"Well, he's clearly been up to shit, given he had time to knock up Starlord's mom. You know the dark of what he was up to before?"

"What do you know...about alchemy?"

"A lot? I got like a gallon of alchemist's fire in the ship-"

"I am Groot."

"Relax; I keep it in P - Starlord's room."

"And surely you know the...goal of such a study."

"The philosopher's stone, yeah. Not super impressed with it, from what I've heard."

The Collector chuckled, voice dry, mocking. "I would think you, at least, would be bright enough to understand. The philosopher's stone as you know it is a pale reflection of the _true_ Philosopher's Stone: the purest essence of transmutation."

"It's a Divinity Stone."

"Your genius knows no bounds," The Collector retorted. "Yes, it is a Divinity Stone."

"And what does that have to do with Ego?"

"In ages past, gods laid claim to some of the Divinity Stones - one such god charged Ego with keeping the Philosopher's Stone from mortals who would misuse it."

"And some dickheads tried to kill him?"

The Collector shook his head. "Celestials are close enough to the gods that they may use the Divinity Stones without risking destruction. With complete command over the powers of transmutation, Ego raised himself up to overthrow his master. When defeated, he was cast into a realm where even the gods are powerless, where some said he must had died."

"He's not dead," Rocket murmured.

"Oh, certainly not. A true master of transmutation can remove all weaknesses from themselves, such that no blade or spell may bring them to an end."

Rocket felt a flare of panic, that he tamped down before it could turn into a visible reaction. He grit his teeth. "So, how about this? You tell us if there's a way to find him that doesn't involve ten days walking across the Outlands, and I'll give you the Philosopher's Stone once I've ripped it out of Ego's cold, dead hands."

"Were we listening to the same chant, boy? Because it sounded to me that this Ego's immortal."

"Wouldn't be the first immortal I've killed," Rocket retorted. "Now, we got a deal?"

The Collector was staring at Rocket, a fixed, intent expression on his face. "What _are_ you?"

"The guy who's gonna get you the Philosopher's Stone."

"Well. I'd heard there was a portal to Ego's realm in the Cage - in the Clerk's Ward, near the Sensates' Hall. The key's a feather from a celestial's wing."

Rocket held out a hand, smiling at The Collector when he glared. "Gotta spend jink to make it, blood." The Collector stormed off in a huff.

He returned less than a minute later carrying a feather, one glittering silver and diamond, which he shoved into Rocket's hand. 

"Don't suppose you've got a quick portal to Sigil yourself?"

The Collector pointed to a small alcove at the edge of the vault. "One-way. Need a copper piece."

"Well, that'll do nicely." He twisted his neck around, stretching it, before turning back to Yondu. "Come on, let's kill a god."


	2. Surrounded by Morons to the Accompaniment of Some Asshole Singing

Ego's realm was a vast planet floating within a silver sky. Light passed over the surface in a slow circuit; he guided them, floating, to a space within the lighted portion. There was a palace there, wide, full of interconnecting corridors and bridges, poorly defended, as Drax saw no other people, no fortifications that would allow it.

But Ego had said this was his own plane, apart from any other place. So maybe he had never been attacked.

Still.

It seemed foolish. Starlord was more cunning than that, but then, Starlord had been raised by the Ravagers, instead of this angel. 

"You are welcome here, within my realm. Food will be provided for you, and a place to sleep, while I reconnect with my son. Come, Mantis." His companion, the strange woman with fleshy antennae, black eyes, and ridged flesh, turned to go with Ego, placing a hand on his shoulder. He straightened, moving more confidently, as she did so. She was clearly some sort of witch, Drax considered.

Once they were gone, Gamora turned to them, glowering. "Something fishy is going on here."

"I see no water," Drax protested, earning a roll of Gamora's eyes. He didn't scowl back at her, even though it was her fault for being confusing.

"I do not trust him. Did you see anyone else here? Besides _her_?"

Starlord scoffed. "Sure, just because you turned on _your_ dad, whoever he is, doesn't mean the rest of us can't have, you know, cool fathers."

"Starlord-"

"No, let's hear it! What about my dad, who is a _literal angel_ , do you think is nefarious?”

Gamora grunted and folded her arms, glaring at Starlord. Drax considered speaking, but _his_ father had trained him in the blade and taught him the stories of his people, so decided neither Gamora nor Starlord would appreciate what he had to say.

Mantis stepped back into the waiting room. She bared her teeth at them, like Rocket when he was feeling like biting somebody.

“What...are you doing?” Gamora asked warily.

“Smiling. It is what you do when you wish people to like you.”

Drax’s heart clenched, an unexpected pain at the simple words. His daughter had been direct, simple, that way. Had never used complicated words to lie or obfuscate their true meaning.

“And are there many more like you in Ego’s realm?”

Mantis shook her head. “No. Ego only has need of me.”

“Need...of?”

“Oh, yes! Ego’s mind is often under great strain. He requires my aid to soothe his troubles, and to allow him to sleep.”

Starlord stared at Mantis, not as suspiciously as Gamora, but curious nonetheless. “Soothe? How?”

“Oh, let me show you!” She stepped forward to press a hand against Starlord’s forehead; before even Drax could draw his axe to defend against this unexpected attack, Mantis had recoiled with a pained cry.

She fell, heavily, against the nearest wall, panting. When Mantis looked up, Drax could see there were tears gathered in her eyes, and he eased his stance, certain she was no danger.

“You are troubled,” Mantis said to Starlord. “Filled with hurt, anger, regret...love.”

Gamora snorted. "It doesn't take a psion to guess _that_ ; finding one's father years after he abandoned you will do that.” 

Mantis frowned, and she shook his head. “I do not mean he feels those things for his father. He feels that toward the...small creature you left behind.”

“I do not!” Starlord protested. His cheeks were red, and Drax suspected he was lying. Starlord had been upset when he learned Rocket had stolen from the modrons a dozen of the strange crystals they'd been hired to protect, even _before_ the modrons discovered the theft and began to pursue them. And he was certain Starlord cared for _all_ of them, but especially for Rocket, who he'd risked his life for more than he had for the rest of them all together. Rocket seemed to take it as an insult, yelling at Starlord every time it happened.

“Rocket is your teammate. There is no shame in holding affection for him.”

“Even if he is a short-tempered selfish sod,” Gamora added.

“Okay, can everybody please stop reading my thoughts against my will? Feels like an illithid dinner party in here.”

Gamora's face wrinkled, a look of disgust. "I agree with Starlord; it's best if you stay out of our heads unless we _allow_ it."

Mantis ducked her head, eyes glimmering strangely. “I am sorry. I merely thought...Ego requires me to always determine if he is well. I did not think you might not wish the same.”

“Yeah, but what about the ‘soothing’?” Starlord asked.

“I can alter creatures’ moods when I am touching them.“ She reached out toward Starlord, who lunged away from her.

“Whoa! Keep your hands to yourself.”

“Oh,” Mantis said, quietly, letting her hands fall. “I apologize. You were toubled, so-“

“Yeah, I am going to work through this on my own, thanks.”

She gave Starlord a gentle smile. “You are welcome."

"And that is… _all_ you do?" Gamora asked, eyes fixed carefully on Mantis.

"Oh no! Ego also requires my assistance to sleep.”

“Ooh! Show me!” Drax was about as worried as Starlord was about allowing someone to alter his emotions, but his daughter had delighted in showing off the strange little tricks her ancestry had allowed her to do. So he grinned as Mantis pressed her hand against his forehead and-

"Wake up." Drax woke to a slap across his face. Gamora was glaring, and Mantis looking worried in the background.

"What-"

"Gamora and Pe - _Starlord_ ," Mantis corrected at a glance from Gamora, "were arguing about Ego. Starlord left and then Gamora hit you. Is that how you show affection?"

"If _Starlord_ doesn't want to think about this rationally, I'm going to explore. Stay here and keep an eye out."

"Like, take it out or-"

"Keep him out of trouble," Gamora snarled, before stalking off. Drax looked to Mantis, who was watching him with her wide, unnerving eyes.

"She is worried about your friend." She lowered her voice. " _Peter_. Why do you call him 'Starlord'?"

"He explained it to me once. He is a wizard, and they do not like people knowing their real name. Our friend Rocket acts the same."

"Rocket. The little rat?"

"He ripped the eye out of the last person who called him a rat," Drax said. "So I usually do not do so."

"Well, what is he?"

"What are you?"

Mantis sighed and drifted toward one of the wide windows of the room, looking out over the golden light fading toward dull silver. "I am not certain. Ego found me, abandoned, orphaned, when I was a larva. He took me in because he understood how useful I would be to him."

"Like a pet."

"I suppose. Ego is...much greater than me. Than either of us, I am sorry to say."

"No. I am a berserker of the eleventh order; I could not pose a threat to any but the weakest celestials. But Rocket, and Starlord, and Gamora, and Groot, and I, together, we defeated Ronan the Accuser."

"And held one of the Divinity Stones in your hands."

Drax nodded. "We did do that. It was exhilarating, working together to defeat him. I had forgotten."

Mantis stepped forward, brushing his arm, and Drax could see the moment she felt his sorrow, not gone so much as muted, something that made his chest hurt if he dwelt too long on it. Tears gathered in those strange, unsettling eyes.

"Come on." Drax patted her shoulder. "Show me this plane of yours. I have never seen a place like it."

When Mantis paused, Drax chose a random direction and pulled Mantis after him, as he would when his daughter couldn't make a decision. He would not allow Mantis to feel sorrow for people she'd never met.

And the time for reflection was not when there was a whole world to explore. Drax had spoken, once, to a recruiter for a club called the Sensates. They had explained they believed a person who experienced everything the Planes had to offer would achieve...he wasn't sure what, exactly, because then they started using weird, obfuscating words. He thought about them, sometimes. He didn't agree he needed to experience _everything_ the Planes had to offer. Having had frequent, vigorous intercourse with his wife, he had little interest in other sexual experiences. There were plenty of battle injuries he would prefer _not_ to experience. But in a way, the Sensate was right that seeing new things made life a little better. There would always be those memories he could review in times his grief threatened to overwhelm him.

Once Mantis recovered from her shock at being pulled after Drax, she became more animated. She had grown up here alone, except for Ego, who knew everything already, so she had never had anyone to share with. He had not experienced such enthusiasm from somebody for a long time, and he savored it.

As the light of the realm finished passing over their portion of the planet, Mantis set Drax upon a hill that provided a beautiful view of the fading light.

"My daughter...was much like you. Not so ugly, of course-"

"You think I am ugly?" Mantis' face was - probably upset; Drax fumbled, gesturing as he tried to remember how to speak to sensitive people. _Rocket_ didn't care if Drax called him a mangy furball, and Gamora cared little about what anybody thought of her. _Starlord_ blustered and protested when called ugly, because he believed how he looked was as important as his formidable skills-

Ah.

"Of course! It is a blessing. I always feared my daughter would be surrounded by people who did not believe there was more to her than her beauty, and she would forget her true worth. _You_ , though, are like Rocket. You are quite fearsome to look at, but powerful, and interesting. Only those who think _that_ is the most important part of your character will like you."

"Like Ego?"

"And me."

"Oh." Mantis smiled at him, before looking away, dropping her hands in her lap. "Drax, there is something you need to know."

" _Fuck_ , this place is a _maze_." Mantis startled, pulled away, at Gamora's appearance. Gamora paused, glaring at Mantis, who clambered to her feet.

“I must go.”

“Mantis-“ She hurried away before Drax could say more, leaving him alone with Gamora, who settled against the low walls set along the edge of the patio Drax had shared with Mantis.

“I don’t like this place. It feels like-“ Gamora paused, swallowing, before continuing, “somewhere unpleasant…”

“It is beautiful. And Mantis is kind. She said Ego took her in when he found her abandoned, orphaned. And he is an angel.”

“Orphaned? A child with a power he needs? The Planes can seem guided by a higher Power, but rarely to _that_ degree.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean my - wicked men would not hesitate to slaughter a child’s family and tell her he took her in out of the goodness of his heart.”

“And you think Ego is a wicked man.”

“A celestial playing at being a Power in his own domain? It is a possibility.”

It _was_ a worrying possibility, and Mantis _had_ seemed as if she wanted to tell Drax something...either something she shouldn’t or something she worried would upset Drax.

But Starlord had spoken several times about his mother; she sounded like a pleasant woman, and Drax did not think she would have chosen so poorly. Gamora was unimpressed by that argument, however.

“I’m going to keep looking. This place can’t be _all_ stunning vistas and abandoned palaces.”

“Good luck.”

Gamora paused, staring. “You aren’t coming?”

“The stunning vistas sound dangerous and unpleasant. And I am tired. Wake me if you find any trouble.”

Drax had expected that to be the end of his evening. It seemed an unreasonable amount of effort to bring them all here to kill them, if that was Ego’s intent; it was clear he could have easily done so earlier, as he had effortlessly dispatched the modrons pursuing them when they met.

But he was awoken from his slumber when it was still dark. There was none of the slow return of awareness; Drax was suddenly awake, Mantis’ face above his, eyes wide, tears gathered at the edge.

“Drax!”

“Get away from him.” Mantis yelped and fell away from Drax. When Drax sat up, Gamora had pinned Mantis to the ground. Mantis twisted her hand, and Gamora stumbled back, her face paling, breath coming in short gasps.

“No, I will not get away from him!”

“How about you do so before I put a crossbow bolt in your heart?”

A lot had apparently happened while Drax was asleep, because Nebula was here, pointing her arm, from which protruded a bolt, at Mantis. Mantis watched her with wide eyes, shaking but standing firm. It was impressive, to see her standing before two hardened warriors, along when she had always had Ego to protect her.

In the absence of Starlord, who was good at distracting people, it was apparently Drax’s responsibility to keep everybody from killing each other, which he did by lumbering into the middle of the crossfire.

“Hey! Nobody is shooting Mantis. And you-“ He turned to look at Mantis, smiling, “no one is going to hurt you.”

“Just try and stop me,” Nebula growled. “This place isn’t a paradise - it’s a graveyard, and I bet she knows something about it.”

Mantis let out a desperate sob; Gamora and Nebula stepped back, clearly unnerved.

Drax stepped closer to Mantis, putting out a hand to her shoulder. Something in his emotions seemed to calm her, although she grabbed Drax’s hand when she turned back to Gamora and Nebula.

“This is not...meant to be a graveyard.”

“There were _countless_ corpses beneath the surface of the planet,” Gamora retorted, an uncharacteristic furrow to her brow.

“Yes. They are Ego’s...other children.”

“Other…?”

Mantis nodded. “Ego has had many children, many...disappointments.”

“And how...exactly did they disappoint him?” Gamora asked, her voice strained.

“They were unable to channel his full glory,” Mantis replied. “He did not _kill_ them!” She pulled up, looking quickly from Gamora, to Nebula and Drax, eyes wide. “They chose to allow him - he could not channel his power through an unwilling host. But none of them proved strong enough.”

“Strong enough for what?”

Mantis shook her head, but Drax remembered how Ego had said he had found Starlord. ‘A human able to withstand the power of a Divinity Stone’. Mantis had mentioned it again, he recalled.

“He has a Divinity Stone,” Drax said. Mantis flinched away from him, much like his friends had when she spied on their secrets. But she did not protest, did not say he was wrong.

“Which one?” Nebula demanded.

“The - the Philosopher’s Stone.”

“What,” Gamora growled, “does he want to make of the world?”

“This,” Mantis whispered.

"This what?" Nebula snapped.

"This demiplane, every fragment of it, except for me, is an extension of his being."

" _Bullshit_!" Nebula slapped the wall next to her. "Even _with_ the Philosopher's Stone, you couldn't do that without-" She choked, paused, and when she began speaking, did so more carefully. "You would have to use that magic to touch every plane simultaneously-"

"He doesn't need someone to channel all that power, does he?" Gamora asked, voice quiet. "It's not too much for him. But he needs to touch every Plane at once, and the pools on the Astral Plane are too random for that. He needs access to the portals in Sigil, but a celestial, channeling the power of a Divinity Stone, is enough like a god that the Lady's wards can keep him out, can't it?"

Mantis was silent, but, notably, did not protest.

"He doesn't want a partner; all he wants is a host that can hide him from the Lady of Pain so he can remake the world - the Planes - in his image."

Mantis nodded, eyes wet from gathered tears. "Drax was so kind to me, even though I am ugly, and I began to worry what would happen to him, to his friends, when Ego succeeded."

"Well, as gratified as I am that my tangential relationship to _Drax_ has worked in my favor, I think the _important_ question is _where is Ego_?"

Mantis glanced to Nebula, before waving her hand at Drax's window, or, perhaps, what was outside it. "Here, he is everywhere."

Nebula sighed. "Then where is _Starlord_?"

"If he is not strong enough, he will be in the graveyard. Otherwise, Ego will be preparing to travel to Sigil-"

"Then let's _go_ ," Gamora demanded.

Mantis guided them through the maze of passages, traveling deeper into the planet (into Ego?), a run that would have been enjoyable if they weren't trying to catch Starlord before he allowed his father to possess him in order to transform everything into Ego (would everyone just look like him?).

They at last entered a wide circular room set around the edge with large arches. All but two were walled up - the one through which they had entered, and another filled with sparkling lights, in front of which stood Starlord. He turned as they entered, and Gamora cursed. Starlord's eyes were dark, like Mantis', with lights suspended in them.

"Hey, guys," he said with an easy grin.

"Let him go, Ego," Gamora said.

"What?" Starlord laughed, shaking his head. "What did - did you tell them Dad's possessing me?" He clicked his tongue, an odd sound that made Gamora scowl. "He's not a _demon_. He can't stay in here-" He pointed at his head, "if I don't want him here."

"Did he tell you why he wants to be in there?" Nebula asked, taking a small step forward.

"No, he tried to keep a secret from me when our brains are _literally_ sharing the same space," Starlord retorted. Drax was...almost certain Starlord was saying the opposite of what he meant, but no one else's reactions were helpful in knowing for sure. "Guys, _relax_. Being Dad is pretty awesome. I've got these cool powers, divine wisdom, the works. And once this is over, you will, too!"

" _Peter_ , think this through! Ego is not trying to give everyone superpowers. He is trying to destroy everything that isn't himself. He's no better than Ronan!"

"I think _you're_ the ones who need to think these through." What happened next felt like a blow to the head; Drax stumbled, and saw the others do something similar. Some sort of magic, Drax thought, though he did not have enough experience to know exactly what kind. He couldn't even tell if the others had been affected or not.

Nebula, though, scoffed. "You will find my will is wholly unbreakable, Ego."

"Yeah, well," Starlord shrugged, and when Drax stumbled again, it was almost to his feet. He felt _tired_ , suddenly, and saw the others similarly slumping. "I've got so many cool tricks up my sleeve, here. I honestly have no idea how you'd stop me."

"Lady's _tits_ , I did not think it was possible for you to get more annoying, but here we are."

Starlord's eyes widened, briefly, and he turned to the portal behind him, where Rocket   
and Yondu stood back-to-back, Rocket smirking, twirling a wand in one hand. 

"Rocket." Drax didn't hear what Starlord said next, but Rocket recoiled, dropping his wand as Peter stepped past him. Yondu tried to grab him, but Starlord shoved him back, said something that caused Yondu to drop, and then Starlord was through the portal, vanishing as the motes of light did as well.

"Piking _halos_!" Rocket shouted, fumbling through his pack. "The worst parts of a puppet _and_ a paladin all in one." He pulled out a wand, spinning it once before pointing it at Drax. "Get over here. _All of you_." He tapped them each in turn with the wand; Drax, at least, felt refreshed when he did so. Rocket was then fumbling with Drax's axe, drawing across it with his claw. "Can't do much for the rest of…" He paused, looking Nebula up and down. " _Hello_."

"Eyes _off_ , rat!" 

"No, no, this is great." Rocket ran a hand along her arm, grinning. "I can make you into a _juggernaut_. How much flexibility do you need to fight?"

"What?"

"Come on, it looks like you got enough construct pieces in here to count as a construct yourself, am I right?"

"He is excellent at making us fight better," Drax offered, when he saw Nebula was still scowling. He didn't understand _how_ , but neither Starlord nor Gamora had ever hesitated to allow Rocket to use his magic on them, and it _seemed_ Drax took fewer injuries when Rocket used magic on him.

"Which we're gonna need; I have _no_ idea how long Groot and Kraglin can hold him off, but given our boy's being _ridden_ by a halo, it's not gonna be long." Rocket's hands were flicking along Nebula's arm, metal leg, the bands of metal and wood in her torso.

"How are we going to follow him?"

"Got the portal key," Rocket muttered, before straightening. "There!" He grinned wide, his teeth showing. "Anyone not on board with kicking Starlord's ass, now's your time to get out!" When nobody made any sign otherwise, Rocket laughed. "Let's _do_ this thing!"

He stepped toward the arch, which began to sparkle again, and he waved them on. "Let's go! Try not to do any permanent damage; we're gonna want Starlord back in one piece when this is over."

"Oh! It's a good thing you said that." Rocket paused, staring at Drax with wide eyes; it was the expression he'd learned Rocket used when he thought Drax was being stupid. "Otherwise I would have tried to beat Starlord until Ego vacated his body."

"He's not…" Rocket rubbed at his forehead. "He's not _possessed_. And nothing we do to Starlord's gonna hurt Ego. Ego's in there as long as Starlord wants him there. So any ideas you come up with making him _not_ want Ego in there, share them." He looked around them, before shrugging. "No? Then _go_!"

It was strange, walking through portals. It looked and felt like you were walking through a door, but you were walking into another realm. And this portal led to Sigil, City of Doors; Drax paused on stepping through, looking around the buildings, behind him, in front of him, to either side, and above him. There was a name for the shape that made up Sigil, a tube shaped in a great ring.

Rocket slapped the back of Drax's leg. "Come on, and don't go berserking 'til we get Ego out of there. And watch that crud; I don't know _what_ it'd do to you."

Ahead of them, there was indeed a strange mass, something bulbous and pulsing with blinding light. Tendrils crawled away from it along the streets, over buildings, up into the air, and above that floated Starlord, eyes wide and dark, smiling as he looked over Sigil.

"Hang on!" Nebula shouted; holding onto Mantis' arm, she vanished, only to appear again over Starlord's head. Mantis reached down and pressed her hands to his temples.

Starlord's eyes closed, and he dropped. Nebula grabbed both him and Mantis, and they vanished again, reappearing at ground level. The glowing mass stopped moving and the tendrils began retreating.

Drax hefted his axe, watching the mass in case it attacked. "Is it over? Should I attack it?"

"Don't touch it!" Rocket snapped. "Bug-eyes? What's the deal?"

"I...can hold him...for a little while," Mantis said, strained. "Nebula said...you were likely to have...a way to...deal with this."

"Well, let's call our chances about half on this," Rocket grumbled, kneeling next to Starlord. "Won't even hurt him, which is a bonus." He pulled out a thin silver circlet and set it on Starlord's head. "Good old _protection against evil_." And then-

Starlord's back arched, and he gasped, eyes snapping open.

They were black and filled with sparkling lights.

"Sod it! We're beating him into unconsciousness the old-fashioned way!"

"Really? Come on, Rocket, you think you can take me on?" Starlord gestured, and Nebula, Mantis, and Rocket dove out of the way as a ring of translucent blades appeared around Starlord.

“Really don’t wanna mess up that pretty face, Baby Boo, but you are _really_ making me reconsider.”

“You can’t touch me!”

“You say that-“

Vines lashed out from the streets, binding Starlord’s arms and legs. A pair of crossbow bolts struck his shoulder and thigh; silver lightning crackled along their lengths, and Starlord screamed.

“ _Dude_ , why are you being such an ass?”

“ _I’m_ being the ass? You are being a certifiable _dick_! Can’t say I care much for your old man, if this is how you act around him.”

Starlord 

_Snapped_

his fingers; the vines around him dissolved, and he waved at the glowing mass, which pulsed and began growing again. He glanced up, and gestured; a column of flame engulfed a nearby rooftop. A spindly tree-like shape stood in the flames, apparently unharmed.

“You think I’d go up against a celestial and _not_ protect Groot from fire? A, I am not a moron, and b, you absolute _dick_! Seriously, what is _wrong_ with you?” Rocket sighed, his shoulders slumping. “Okay, guys, give it all you’ve got. I’m gonna do something stupid.”

That was as direct a statement as Drax had heard, so he sprinted toward Starlord, swinging his axe. Mindful of Rocket’s warning, he aimed the flat of the blade, rather than the edge, at his friend. Starlord did not seem to notice, glancing to his right abruptly, pointing a finger at apparently empty space. When Nebula appeared, hand in Mantis’ own, a green jet of light shot from Starlord’s finger. When it struck Mantis, she gasped and slumped in Nebula’s hold.

And then Drax ran into him, striking with a flurry of blows with his axe. Starlord grunted in shock, pain, as he fell back.

“Okay, I’m done playing nice.” Drax couldn’t hear what Starlord said, but he suddenly couldn’t stand, couldn’t focus.

And when he could move again, he had apparently missed a lot, because Rocket was singing.

“ _I can't stop this feelin', deep inside of me, girl, you just don't realize, what you do to me_.”

“What are you doing?” Gamora darted past Rocket, punching Starlord in the chest, causing him to stagger back.

“Dying the way I lived - surrounded by morons to the accompaniment of some asshole singing!   
_When ya hold me in your arms, so tight, you let me know, everything's all right_!”

“Seriously, what are you doing?” Starlord asked. He shot a line of green light from another finger at Gamora, who stepped nimbly out of the way. “You’re not going to ‘reach me’ or whatever. I’m right here, and I’m doing this!”

“You think this’ll make up for the fact you had to lose your mom? That it’ll make your daddy proud of you? He _left_ , Pete, so he could make a thousand other angel babies to find one who could do what he wanted! _I, I'm hooked on a feelin', high on believin', that you're in love with me_.”

A ring of blades appeared on the distant roof; Groot and a man Drax had never seen before pulled together to avoid them. Starlord turned to Rocket, a wholly unpleasant smile on his face.

“Is that what this is? You being in love with me? Keeping me away from my real family isn’t going to make me love you.”

Rocket grimaced, dodging aside as another column of flame erupted from the streets. But he kept singing as Gamora kicked low, Nebula there to punch Starlord in the stomach as he tried to dodge the blow.

“ _Lips are sweet as candy, the taste stays on my mind, girl, you keep me thirsty for another cup of wine_.”

It didn’t make sense. Starlord wasn’t _cruel_. If he thought Rocket was in love with him, he’d-

Well, he’d tease Rocket. They all would, probably. But this…

Mantis had been certain Ego couldn’t possess Starlord against his will. But she had been silent about what effect the fusion would have on him. Rocket, though, seemed to have an idea…

“You will apologize to Rocket for saying that.”

“What?” Starlord stared, blank, at Drax.

“You will apologize, or I will make you.”

“What are you - fuck!” Starlord leapt back, shouting a word just as Nebula punched him in the throat. He choked, gasped, and Drax grabbed him around the throat while Rocket continued to sing.

“ _I got it bad for you girl, but I don't need a cure, I'll just stay addicted and hope I can endure_.”

Was Starlord distracted? Drax couldn’t say. He _seemed_ to be handling three assailants with ease. But Rocket seemed certain what he was doing would help, and he was much smarter than Drax. So when Starlord opened his mouth, Drax presumed it was to speak another word of power, and tackled him right into the wall of blades.

They vanished before Starlord could hit them, and then Drax and he were rolling on the ground, Rocket singing, voice strained, either from disuse or desperation.

“ _All the good love, when we're all alone, keep it up, girl, yeah ya turn me on_.”

"Ugh!" Starlord pressed a hand against his side, bruises fading as he did so. "Rocket, if you don't shut up in six seconds-"

If Starlord were in his right mind, he'd know better than to tell Rocket what to do, _especially_ in that imperious tone of voice. Rocket, glowering, kept singing. " _I, I'm hooked on a feelin', high on believin', that you're in love with me_."

Starlord rose, snarling, so Drax grabbed his arms around Starlord's middle and slammed his forehead into Starlord's.

"Ow! Let's see how _you_ like it!" Starlord slammed a hand into Drax's chest, causing a dozen wounds to split open simultaneously, pain and blood coming all at once in a way Drax had never before experienced and he would be happy never experiencing again.

" _All the good love, when we're all alone, keep it up, girl, yeah ya turn me on_."

"What is the _point_ of this?" Starlord screamed at Rocket. "I know this song better than you! It's my _mother's_ music!"

" _I, I'm hooked on a feelin', I'm high on believin', that you're in love with me_."

Tears were streaming down Starlord's face as Rocket finished, hands clenched at his sides. "What the _fuck_ , Rocket? Did you realize you were going to lose and just drag me down with you, making me think of my…"

Starlord's voice quieted, and for a moment, he was silent. The strange mass was untouched, its light dimming, and his mouth moved, silently.

And then…

"What did you _do_?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The full lyrics of 'Hooked on a Feeling' is the work of Mark James, and, as you should know, part of the soundtrack of Guardians of the Galaxy :P


	3. Rocket Does Something Stupid

Peter didn't know what Rocket was trying to do. He'd heard Rocket sing Peter's songs under his breath when Rocket was engrossed in his work, but he did nothing but complain when _Peter_ was singing them. So Peter didn't know if Rocket was trying to annoy him or what.

He just kept _singing_ , while everyone else tried to keep Peter distracted from Rocket, from Ego's work.

And Rocket's voice was enthusiastic, if unpracticed, like Peter's mother, who always sounded rusty, out of practice, though she sang all the time.

Rocket finished, then, and, fearful he'd keep going, Peter snapped, "What the _fuck_ , Rocket? Did you realize you were going to lose and just drag me down with you, making me think of my…"

_Meredith_. There were memories, there, images of Peter's mother he'd never seen, things he'd never heard her say.

And a moment, heartbreaking, when he'd reached out a hand to her, one final time, giving birth to the sickness that had destroyed her.

"What did you _do_?"

_I loved her, I loved her so deeply, I knew I couldn't keep away, coudn't focus on what I needed to so long as she lived-_

Disbelief gave way to…

Grief, fresher now, more intense for being shared by someone.

But also…

Confusion. Had he known she was sick? A celestial should have been able to know.

Indignation. Had he let her die? A celestial could have cured her.

…

Anger.

" _You_ killed her?"

_Technically, the cancer did. If your people bothered to believe in magic like reasonable people-_

"You gave her _cancer_! Do you know how much she _suffered_? How much _all of us_ suffered?"

_You have to understand, I loved her so much I feared-_

" _You don't do that to people you love_!"

Ego had promised the channelling would last only as long as Peter wanted, but it was still a shock to be a celestial housed within a mortal frame one moment, and Peter Quill a moment later.

"Whoa whoa hold it! That's _Starlord_!" Peter looked up just as Drax's fist came to a stop an inch from his nose. A sharp claw poked Peter in the side, and when he looked down, there was Rocket, dark fur poking out through the gaps in his studded armor, ears flat back, belying his casual stance. "If this is still your dad, Baby Boo, I'm kicking you right in the 'nads, because you two are _dicks_ when you get together."

Peter laughed, or sobbed, he wasn't sure, and sank down onto the ground, wrapping his arms around his legs. " _Fuck_ , what the hell was I doing?"

"You bought into a transmuter's screed about why everything should be grapefruits or some barkle like that. Happens to a _lot_ of people dumber than me." Peter let out a shaky breath, and Rocket, giving him a hesitant look, put his hand on Peter's shoulder.

"Rocket, I'm-"

"Bar that," Rocket growled, "we got a celestial to box." He stepped away, but paused after a moment, and the expression he gave Peter was uncharacteristically gentle. "I mean, I know he's your dad and all-"

"I've got a father. A shitty person to have to grow up with, who threatened to eat me on more than one occasion, and never _once_ said he gave a damn about me. But Ego killed my mom, so I'm going to make him wish he was never distilled from the infinite compassion of Mount Celestia." Peter pushed himself up, only to freeze when he caught sight of Yondu and, hell, Kraglin, both staring at him. "Rocket? Did we pick up any new team members since the last time we saw each other?"

"I don't know, I think Gamora and Nebula patched things up, and Mantis is _definitely_ on our side. Hey! Everyone who doesn't want to get styxed by the worst father I have met today - by a _slim margin_ \- get over here!"

"But aren't we-?" Peter pointed toward the deactivated portal back to Ego's realm.

"Yeah, in case you didn't notice, your dad has had eons to master the Philosopher's Stone, so isn't gonna matter if we take five minutes to prepare or not."

Rocket still worked quickly, tapping belts, gloves, clothing as he wove magic into them. Armor, more armor, giving weapons the power to wound celestials…

“Ugh, what a piking waste,” he growled, tapping a wand against Mantis’ arm; she gasped, and gave Rocket a delighted smile. “Alright, anyone who’s going we’re headed out now!” He grabbed one of Peter’s belt loops before pausing, looking up at him with wide eyes, hesitant, almost fearful. “Hey, uh, you mind-“

“Go ahead. Feel weird fighting without some asshole jumping on and off my shoulders.”

“‘ts why you lost that last fight,” Rocket sneered, clambering up to Peter’s shoulder. 

“I won plenty of fights without you!” After a beat, Peter added, “but I’m 0 for 2 in fights _against_ you.”

“We’ll have plenty of time for flirting when this bastard’s dead!” Yondu snapped.

Rocket shook himself, scowling, but didn’t argue with Yondu. Peter’d taunted Rocket for much the same reason, and wasn’t certain if he’d seen something in Rocket’s heart (Peter had had preternatural insight during his fusion with Ego, but the memories of what he’d perceived were vague) or simply suspected dying alone was a trigger for his teammate. He shook the thought away; they didn’t have time for it.

As Peter approached the portal site, it filled with dancing lights; Rocket waved on the rest of the team, until they were the only ones left. 

Rocket took a deep breath. “Peter, I-“

“Whatever it is, it can wait.”

“We could both die in there!”

Peter shrugged. “Well, you’re not allowed. None of you are - part of the contract.”

Rocket laughed, an uneven, broken sound. “You’re an asshole.” He took another breath. “Come on, Baby Boo, let’s do this.”

When Peter stepped through the portal, it was to find the world beyond transformed. No longer a cavern deep below the surface of Ego’s planet, it was an open valley, part of a twisting network of paths open to a sky filled with clouds, rent with thunder and streaks of lightning. 

A bolt struck down, engulfing a bright figure floating close to a hundred feet above them.

“If anyone else wants to contribute to doing some damage, here, it'd be _hende_!” Rocket braced his crossbow against Peter’s head, frowning, before glancing at Peter. “You gonna start singing here, or are we doing this without the inspiration offered by your dead mom's favorite tunes?"

Peter shook his head. "He's got the _Philosopher's Stone_. He's toying with us - that's not even his real body. He's basically the entire planet."

Rocket snarled, rolling his eyes, but then paused, glancing at Ego's form taking another bolt of lightning to the skull. He tugged at Peter's ear. "Rule one of gods, Baby Boo - even they can only concentrate on so much at a time. So if he's paying attention to _them_ , an enterprising cutter who wants to get the Philosopher's Stone might have a shot. Think you can find it?"

"Um...no?"

Rocket scoffed. "One of these days I'll convince you to learn some _useful_ magic, not all this shit for fighting better." He looked up at the rest of them. "If any of you can fly, it'd be a great way to - oh. Yondu, come on! We got places to be!" 

Nebula's parts, apparently, involved some sort of flight spell, because she lifted off the ground, right arm shifting into a blade as she soared toward Ego. "Now let's get going." Rocket hopped down, sprinting away from Ego, pausing a few yards away to look back at Peter. "Come _on_!"

"I just told you I can't-"

"Pike it and _come on_."

A few hundred yards away, they came upon a path that descended further into the planet. Rocket grinned and looked up at Peter.

"Now, I think I said something about finding the Stone."

"And I told you I couldn't!"

Rocket sighed and helped up a scrap of paper. "No, you told me you don't know _how_. But I've generally found that even the most brain-dead dabbler's got enough of the theory rattling around their bone-box to read a spell off a piece of paper."

"Then why didn't you-"

"Because this whole 'meet the parents' thing has lost me a small fortune in magic items, and I was holding out for the vague hope that I wouldn't have to waste another 200 jinx on dealing with your daddy issues." Rocket shoved the paper for insistently into Peter's hand before stepping back and crossing his arms. "So...any day now."

Peter took a careful look at the scroll, inscribed with barely-legible scrawls of arcane symbols. It was definitely a spell to locate familiar objects, or those he'd seen in person, which…

Yes, his father _had_ taken him to the room holding the Philosopher's Stone, shown him how to hold it, to channel its power. It was a glittering stone, gold veined with grey like lead, its shape every-shifting. Focusing on that image, on the power as Ego had held it in his hands, directed the power to Peter, Peter cast the spell. The scroll crumbled, and Peter could feel it, a tug downward, to the right.

“Come on, where is it?”

“Like seven hundred feet away, right and-“

“Come on.” Rocket darted into a descending passage to the left.

“But it’s-“

“I don’t tell you how to sing, Baby Boo, and you don’t tell me how to run mazes. Just keep up the dark of where it is, and I’ll get us there.”

Five minutes passed that way, Rocket taking passages apparently at random, but drawing them closer to Peter’s sense of where the Stone was. Rocket’s proficiency at this was...curious. He couldn’t imagine where someone would have picked up a skill like that except by being mazed by the Lady of Pain, stuck in a pocket dimension because she’d decided flaying him alive was too much trouble. And pissing off the modrons was one thing, but if Rocket had gotten on Her Serenity’s bad side, sticking with him was suicide.

Rocket stopped, abruptly. “Fuck.”

“What?”

But a moment later, Peter saw it. The path ahead of them opened into a huge cavern, hundreds of feet across. In the center was a pedestal holding the Philosopher’s Stone. Between them and it was a pile of corpses, a small mountain of bodies.

“Guess that’s what happened to Ego’s other kids,” Rocket mused.

There was a sharp gasp behind them, and Peter, having forgotten Yondu was there, started. “Said he wanted his kids back. Never said anything about _this_.”

“Guess he figured even a lousy Ravager wouldn’t bring him kids to _sacrifice_ ,” Rocket retorted. “Now come on, let’s get this rock.”

Peter, though, had been feeling on edge since they’d arrived, and grabbed Rocket’s arm as he tried to step forward. Rocket snarled, tugged at his arm a bit, before settling for a narrow glare.

“What’re you doing, Starlord?”

“There’s something wrong here.”

“Yeah, we can all see the mountain of corpses,” Rocket drawled. “Don’t see what the trouble is.”

“Look.”

Following Peter’s pointing finger with his gaze, Rocket was opening his mouth, likely for another sarcastic retort, when he saw what Peter had. In the mouth of every corpse, fused, it seemed, in place, was a gem, dark blue with midnight veins running through them.

“Sod _me_ ,” Rocket whispered, voice hushed in...awe. 

“What? Looks like some poor sod’s funeral rite,” Yondu added.

“Not funerary,” Rocket retorted. “Unless you’ve got some barmy idea about what a body’s supposed to get up to after you’ve buried it.”

“So, what? They’re zombies?”

“Almost certainly not.”

Rocket pulled a small stone out of his pack and hurled it at the center of the room. As it began descending from the height of its arc, a dozen bodies, fused together and moving as if they were the limb of some monstrous creature, reached up from the pile and grabbed the rock before dropping down, item still in their grasp.

“What the-“

“No clue, but nice to see this whole trip’s about as much cake as I thought it was. Any bright ideas, Starlord?”

Peter couldn’t draw his gaze away from the Philosopher’s Stone, hand twitching with the urge to hold it. At Rocket’s prompting, though, he shrugged. “I’ve never seen anything like this. I’d bet-“

“Yeah, that this is some shit your daddy made special to guard this place.” Rocket groaned. “Well, another day and a half of work straight into the Void.” He pulled out another scrap of paper. “Either of you got any magic on you you'll die without? No? Good.”

The world around them went dull, grey. Rocket grabbed Peter’s hand and waved at Yondu. “Stay close; you’re safe ten feet out and then Lady knows what’ll happen.”

Peter held his breath when Rocket stepped onto the hill of bodies, but nothing happened, and he let out a breath in relief. Rocket tilted his head up at Peter, smirking.

“Not sure it’d work?”

“No! I-“

“Can we get this _done_?” Yondu grumbled. “This place is starting to get under my skin.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Rocket tugged Peter forward, apparently content to let Yondu try to keep within ten feet on his own. Peter couldn’t help the shiver as they walked over the bodies. Each of these had been one of his siblings. Each of them had grown up without a father. They must have been ecstatic to meet Ego, to hear about the great destiny in store for them. And now they were a glorified trap to anyone who’d steal Ego’s greatest treasure.

“Don’t freak out on me, Baby Boo. We need your head in the right place.”

“What? Why?”

Rocket poked Peter’s hip. “Because you’re gonna have to pick up the Philosopher’s Stone, and half-halo or not, if you’re not focused, it’s gonna fuck you up.”

“Pick it up? But-“

Peter hadn’t thought when he’d grabbed the Prismatic Lens. It’d been a shock when he hadn’t been immediately incinerated. He now knew it was his celestial blood that’d protected him. But he would have died if the others hadn’t helped. If, in the end, Rocket hadn’t drawn the brunt of the stone’s destructive energies into himself. When he’d felt the shift of energy, he’d almost fought it, certain Rocket was going to kill himself, going out in a blaze of glory rather than keep going without his partner.

So he was a little hesitant about touching the Philosopher’s Stone.

But...Rocket believed in him. He obviously hadn’t come out and said it, but Rocket wouldn’t have told Peter to do it if he didn’t believe it would work.

That thought alone buoyed Peter’s confidence. Rocket, arrogant jack of all trades, didn’t have enough doubt in Peter to voice.

So when they reached the top of the hill, to the unobtrusive stand holding the Philosopher’s Stone, Peter paused only long enough for a fortifying breath, and picked it up.

Where the Prismatic Lens just poured energy out into the world, the Philosopher’s Stone seemed innocuous at first. Peter didn’t feel the rush of power as when Ego had shared it with him, just a quiescent potential. And then he remembered he was standing in the middle of a bubble where magic didn't work.

So Peter slipped his hand out of Rocket's, ignoring his protests, stepped to the boundary of the spell, and then over.

Immediately, the corpse-limbs reached out for him, great hands reached out to grab, crush him. But the moment Peter stepped out of Rocket's anti-magic field, he was lost. He could see the shape, the structure, of everything around him. It was like everything around him was made of Legos, and he could see the joins between them. But it was more than that - he could see how to rearrange them, to make them into anything else. He could see the petrified flesh of the corpses bound into Ego's trap, and could see the gems set upon each of their foreheads. He could see Rocket, could see how he had been broken apart and put back together, done so inelegantly his every breath must have pained him.

"Hey, Starlord! I'm not bringing you back if you get yourself killed by standing around looking like a slack-jawed Clueless!"

The shout drew Peter's attention to the descending arms, and as easily as breathing, he raised his hand and

_Snapped_

his fingers.

The gems set upon each of his dead siblings' foreheads were transmuted from the crystals - the same type used to bind elementals to Voidships - to ordinary quartz. And because ordinary quartz couldn't bind a soul to a mortal frame, the arms jerked to a stop, the world around them falling silent for a tense, still moment.

And then ten thousand voices screamed in unison as Peter's dead siblings were freed from their prison, vacating Ego's realm for that of whatever god had cared for them in life.

With that done, Peter was already turning to Rocket, sketching out the lines of how to fix him, when a hand clamped around his own.

"You can just _stop that_ , Baby Boo."

Peter looked down, confused, meeting Rocket's narrow, sharp glare.

"You're in _pain_."

"And that's _my_ business," Rocket snapped. "I want your help, I'll ask for it. Until then, keep your grubby paws out of my cellular structure."

Rocket _sounded_ mad, but there was tension in his form, a twitch to his tail, that suggested he wasn't so much angry as _terrified_. Seeing that, fearless Rocket, afraid of _Peter_ , in a way he hadn't when Peter was trying to kill (well, maim) him, shocked Peter back to reality, where reshaping someone's form without their consent wasn't cool.

"Do we get to kill his daddy now?"

The ground underneath their feet shifted ominously. "It's never that easy," Rocket grumbled. "Starlord, get us out of here."

And Peter

found his hand gripped tightly in Rocket's again. "Cast a sodding _spell_ , Baby Boo. Save the dazzle for Ego."

Peter took a steadying breath, trying to take Rocket's advice and just think in terms of spells, set effects, rather than shaping the world to his whim. _Fly_. And again. He glanced at Yondu. "You want anything?"

"Naw, you know I don't trust magic, kid." Yondu grabbed his arrow, whistled, and it lifted him straight into the air. Rocket followed a moment later, and Peter trailed after them, uneasy as the world around them shook again. He had the Philosopher's Stone, but had a strong suspicion that someone who'd held it for...ages, would have used it to change themselves, make it so they were a force to be reckoned with even if they lost it.

Still.

Peter had the Philosopher's Stone, was getting used to seeing how things fit together without giving into the urge to reshape them.

"Make us a door, Baby Boo."

Peter

_Snapped_

his fingers, and the roof above them sublimated into rainbow light. Rocket shaded his eyes with one hand and glared back down at Peter.

"Can you pike the sparkling all over the place?"

Peter was opening his mouth to apologize when they soared out into the open air, and discovered what the shaking was about.

The ground was crumbling beneath them, the sky bleeding red. A flare of light pinpointed where Ego and the others were battling. He moved impossibly quickly among them, vanishing occasionally to reappear elsewhere.

And then he suddenly froze, looking up at Peter.

" _Fuck_ ," Rocket breathed. Before he could say anything else, Ego was there, grabbing at Peter's hand. He jerked back, snapping his hand back, _telekinesis_ , hurling Ego back, but then the angel teleported forward again, grabbing - not at Peter's hand, but what was in it. Peter's skin burned at the touch, but he had presence of mind enough to

_Snap_

his fingers, dragging the stone beneath them into a wall between them, falling back as he tried to assess the damage. He felt weaker, his hands shaking, as Rocket drew even with him.

"We can't fight him."

"What?" Peter raised the Philosopher's Stone up. "We've got-"

"No, he's right, kid. Your daddy's got more experience, knows how this thing works." A distant scream made Peter flinch away from the sound; the others looked less disturbed and more wary. "He's just gotta get lucky once."

"Then what do we do?"

Rocket gave Peter a grim smile. "The Philosopher's Stone made this place. It can destroy it - and anyone inside it."

The wall ahead of them twitched and then turned into a mass of writhing flesh, collapsing under its weight as Ego lunged forward.

"Go!" Peter shouted,

_Snapping_

his fingers, turning the moisture in the air around Ego to ice, sending the angel plummeting as Peter darted after Rocket and Yondu.

Ego roared, and Peter saw in that instant the monstrosity lurking beneath Ego's beauty, a mind twisted by arrogance, centuries without any human contact, and whatever magic he'd forced upon himself. It was beautiful, horrifying, and in a different moment, it might have broken Peter's mind. He wrenched himself into motion, casting _time stop_ to give himself a moment to think. Rocket and Yondu were some distance away; he closed the distance, _haste_ , _chasing perfection_. _Greater magic vestment_. And as the frozen moment of time ended, returning Peter to the normal flow of time, he

_Snapped_

his fingers, and a funnel of wind engulfed Ego, hurling him toward the ground. "Go, go, go!" _Haste_ , and Rocket was moving faster, as well, soaring toward the rest of their team, where the portal to Sigil was.

"So what, we get through the portal and I collapse the plane on him from there?"

"Gotta close the other portals out of here first!" Rocket grabbed at Peter's hand before he could snap his fingers. "Keep it leashed for a minute, Baby Boo; don't wanna strand anyone here."

They hit the ground running. "To the piking portal! We are gone as soon as everyone's through!"

Peter fumbled with the feather, handing it to Rocket as they both continued to run. Peter turned, keeping in mind the portal he was approaching, and reached out through the demiplane, for the portals out of it, to the Outlands, the Elemental Planes, and he

_Snapped_

his fingers.

"Let's see if you fucked this up," Rocket muttered, closing the last few feet to the portal. The air sparked and sparkled, and Rocket let out a sigh of relief. "Let's _go_!"

Ego appeared in front of them, beautiful face twisted in fury. "You think you can lock me up here? You're not the Lady. You can't maze me."

"Yeah, well there's one door out of here, and you can't use it." Peter grinned as Nebula shoved Mantis through the portal, Groot turning to drag Drax and Gamora through it faster.

"Bonded with the Philosopher's Stone, I am as a god, and barred from Sigil," Ego agreed. "But without it, I am only a lowly planetar, as free to enter the city as any other mortal creature."

Peter felt a hand on his hip, glanced down to see Rocket standing next to him, just a step ahead, as if he expected to keep Peter safe if Ego attacked.

"You may think that, but there's one place you can't go, cutter, and that's anywhere near my boy." Yondu stepped in front of both of them, scowl on his face, an expression that had always been intimidating despite Yondu's size.

" _Your_ boy? I am pretty certain he's _my_ son."

"You might be blood, but you can't lay claim to him, Ego, not like I can. Fed him and clothed him and taught him all these years. Whatever mess I made of it, I figure it's more'n you've done. So you wanna follow him outta here? It's _not happening_."

Yondu whistled, and his arrow began a blurred dance around him.

Ego just shook his head and stepped-

The arrow punched through his shoulder, sending silver blood splattering back against the ground. Ego reached out, and the arrow spiked through it, pinning him to the ground. Yondu half-turned, eye still on Ego, and gave Peter an accusing glare.

"What're you doing, boy? Get _out_ of here!"

Peter couldn't move away. He would have expected Rocket to be pulling him back to the portal, but the hand on his hip didn't move, and when he glanced down, it was to see a tense Rocket staring, fixedly, on the fight, his tail and ears twitching. Yondu screamed in defiance as Ego stretched a hand out to him, before whistling brightly, the arrow swinging in three tight circuits, perforating Ego's other shoulder, throat, skull. Even as Ego recoiled, the wounds were closing. 

Yondu turned, snapped, "This one's _mine_ , you mangy rat; you can get the next one! So get the fuck _out_ of here!"

Rocket hesitated for a moment before he grabbed Peter's free hand and ran; Peter stumbled after him, still watching behind as Yondu tore into Ego, not bringing Ego any closer to death, but not letting him a step closer to Peter, or the portal to Sigil. And then they were through, stumbling; Peter fell to his knees, one hand still clenched around the Philosopher's Stone.

But that quiet, that relief, lasted only a moment before Rocket was pulling at his shoulder. "Come on, Starlord, we gotta box that plane and your daddy with it."

"But Yondu-"

Rocket stopped tugging, ears drooping as he stepped closer, almost flush to Peter's side. "He didn't step up between you and a bloody halo expecting to make it to retirement. Said...it's something you do for someone you...care about."

"But I can't…" Peter's hand clenched around the Philosopher's Stone, feeling the pulse of magic in it. "If I destroy Ego's realm-"

"I'll do it."

"What?"

Rocket put a hand over Peter's hand, the one holding the Stone. "Already killed my old man, might as well do yours, too."

Peter shook his head, the ache of his chest and prickle of tears blurring his vision making a coherent response difficult. "You can't - don't-"

"You're gonna hate whoever does this, so thought I'd save you the trouble and make it me."

And then Rocket's hand clenched hard around Peter's, and he turned toward the portal, still sparkling, raising his free hand.

"I'm not going to hate you for this, Rocky."

Rocket gave Peter the briefest of glances, something wide, unidentifiable, before he raised his hand to the portal and

_Snapped_

his fingers.

There should have been something more. A rumble, a flash of light, even a sound. Not the simple vanishing of the lights within the portal, a dimming of the light around him. Peter stared, hoping, wishing, there would be something, anything. That Yondu had survived, found a way out of the collapsing demiplane.

Instead, Peter felt numb, chilled, as a shadow fell over him.

Next to him, Rocket choked. "Peter…"

Robes, intricately patterned, floated six inches above the ground; looking up, Peter saw a face, expressionless, as if made from porcelain, ringed by wickedly-sharp blades.

Of course.

He'd let a god inhabit his body, to use him as a vessel to bypass the wards set to keep the Powers out of Sigil.

If there was a faster way to attract the attention of the Lady of Pain, Her Serenity, guardian and enforcer of Sigil, Peter couldn't think of it. Certainly not now, still trying to get some grasp on the last, gods, ten minutes of his life.

One thought _did_ make its way through the fog:

He wasn't going to get out of this just being banished to one of Her Serenity's mazes.

" _No_." Peter looked around, and then, no, _down_ , where Rocket stood, planting himself between Peter and the Lady of Pain. Peter couldn't see Rocket's face, but he was standing tall, hands fisted at his sides, head tilted up to meet Her Serenity's blank gaze, pure, depthless blue set within her expressionless face. "No. You don't get to do this. I lost enough, Your Serenity, for you to take him away from me, too!"

"Rocket, get out of the-"

"No!" Rocket spun on Peter, teeth bared, as vicious a look as he'd ever given Peter. But there were tears at the corners of his eyes. "You do this noble, self-sacrificing shit all the time - it's _my turn_!" He turned back to the Lady of Pain, tail lashing as he drew himself up to his full height, ears perked up, facing forward. He wasn't reaching for his pack; it was certain there was nothing Rocket _could_ make that could protect him from the Lady.

She bent her head, ever so slightly, as her gaze fell on Rocket. Peter felt his hands clench; he knew he couldn't do anything to stop the Lady of Pain if she wanted to maze Rocket...or kill him.

"So go ahead, you old metalhead! You wanna box him you go through me!"

The Lady tilted her head, as silent as ever, before she raised her hands, pressing them together as if in thought.

And then she turned. The others backed hurriedly out of her way as she drifted along the street; Peter didn't breathe again until she was out of sight.

And then Rocket collapsed to his knees with an explosive exhale. "Of all the barmy Ladywatching I've done since taking up with you, that's - you _owe_ me, Starlord!"

Peter normally knew to keep his distance from Rocket, but this day had been too much. He dropped down and wrapped his arms around Rocket's shoulders, holding Rocket tight to his chest. Rocket surprised him by weathering the touch, slumping into the embrace until Kraglin and Gamora stepped close. At that point Rocket shoved away, though he didn't move far away, sticking nearby even as Groot looked them both over for serious injuries. He kept glancing between Peter and the now-closed portal, opening his mouth a few times, as if to say something, but he was uncharacteristically silent.

"Do we have any ideas what to do with this? I do not think it's wise letting Starlord keep it, and it is clear at this point selling these to anyone who can afford them is a poor idea."

They'd found a bar, somewhere relatively empty so the group of them didn't attract attention, drinking in celebration, or mourning, or whatever the hell they thought about the day. Peter had been altering the alcohol content of his drinks, growing increasingly inebriated so he was thoroughly drunk when Gamora brought up the subject of the Philosopher's Stone.

"Sounds like you need another drink. Or a better one." Peter raised his hand, only for Rocket to grab at his fingers.

"You're cut _off_ , Baby Boo. In fact, let's stick this thing in a box til we get rid of it so you stop _rearranging_ things."

Peter smiled vaguely at Rocket, patting Rocket's face with his free hand. "Maybe _you_ need another drink."

"Alright, he's not helping."

"I am Groot."

"Ha!" At Groot's suggestion, Nebula slapped the table next to Gamora. "Blood may _say_ he doesn't let anything out of his grasp, but...anyone could take it from him with enough force."

"It's not the _worst_ idea," Gamora allowed. "Among other things, he had likely learned the importance of keeping others from touching it." 

Rocket turned and wrestled with Peter, snapping one of his boxes around the stone one he wrested it from Peter's hand. "Alright, any objections to letting The Collector have it? I… _did_ agree to give it to him in exchange for the dark on Ego." Nebula raised her hand. "Any objections from members of the piking _team_?" When no one responded, Rocket slammed his hands on the table. "Hende! Let's get out of here, and someone keep Starlord away from the controls of the Voidship."

Despite their best efforts, Peter insisted on sitting in the pilot's seat, but he let Rocket, sitting in the next seat, take the wheel.

"Not mad at you," he slurred.

Rocket, trying to steer them through the Astral Plane, hunched a little closer around the wheel. "We don't need to talk about this."

"No, we do. You did...what we had to. Can't be mad at you for that. Better death than most Ravagers get - protecting his son from an avenging angel. Helping save the universe." He drooped along his chair, beginning to regret that one shot he'd made 250 proof. "Saved me, too."

There was something there, a vague memory of something Yondu'd used to say, about the Lady, but Peter was exhausted, drunk, and just wanted this day to be over.

The Collector was, in fact, delighted to receive the Philosopher's Stone, promising it would leave his vaults over his dead body ("exactly what I'm afraid of," Nebula commented darkly).

And then they stepped out onto the docks of Knowhere to find a fleet of ships arrayed about it. Rocket tensed next to Peter, but a cautious hand on his shoulder eased him. Rocket looked up at Peter one ear twitching curiously. "Starlord?"

"It's the Ravagers."

"That's not good news, Starlord-"

"Not the-"

"I called them." Kraglin stepped up next to Peter, hand dropping onto his shoulder. "I thought they needed to know...what happened. What Yondu did."

Red light arced out of the lead ship, making a streamer against the silver of the Astral Plane. Another let out a ring of violet light, and another countless green sparks. The lights of the ships made a glorious display, soothing, and next to Peter, Rocket's eyes were wide in wonder.

"What's-"

"The Lights. When a Ravager dies, the other clans show up to cast his ashes into the Astral Plane and show the Lights to lead the soul to the afterlife. I guess there's no ashes, but-"

"He was exiled for slaving," Rocket retorted. "Said he wouldn't hear the Horns of Freedom or get the Colors when he died."

"I think they realized he just...made some mistakes. That he was trying his best."

Eyes fixed on the lights, Rocket drew a little closer to Peter. "That maybe...even if he got them all in trouble, maybe didn't really feel bad about it, they might know he's sorry he made their lives harder. Thought...he wasn't that bad a guy? Still wanted to...have him around." Rocket's ears were flat against his head, shoulders hunched.

"There wasn't ever a question about that. I think they were upset because they...cared a lot about Yondu. Were upset he did something that hurt them." Peter risked a hand on Rocket's head, considering it was a good sign Rocket didn't cut his fingers off. "Of course you're welcome, Rocket. Ship's still yours when I croak."

"Full disclosure here, Baby Boo. I did _not_ finish fixing the Milano before Yondu found me. So not a really attractive option. I mean, I'd let you fly on _my_ ship - not gonna let you take it if I get styxed, though; gotta make sure Groot's taken care of."

"Sure."

"What?"

"We should fix up the Milano, but the Quadrant looks like a cool ship. Big enough so you don't have to share a room with Groot."

"Can't tell me what to do if it's my ship." Rocket looked a little less nervous, more belligerent, straight up, one hand twitching, ready for a fight.

Peter shrugged. "Yeah, but I figure I can ask my friend to do shit, instead."

Rocket didn't quite flinch, but he did step away, apparently to watch the Colors more closely. "Yeah...could do that. Could definitely do that."


	4. Inevitable

Mechanus was the plane of perfect law - not of rules passed by any mortal authority, or even those of the gods. But those of the universe, of the planes.

There were many laws the modrons of Mechanus sought to impose upon the people of the Planes, and the various Prime Materials, but there were three so important they forged creatures - the Inevitables - whose sole purpose was to enforce them.

The first of these rules was that laws must be obeyed. When one escaped justice, especially for grievous or disruptive crimes, the great creation forges created a Zelekhut to pursue that wrongdoer so long as they had evaded just punishment for their crimes.

Second, that oaths must be upheld. When one violated an oath or bargain of great significance, one of the Kolyarut may be assigned to seek the oath-breaker out and enforce the terms of the contract.

And thirdly, that in time, all things will die. Even gods, titans, and immortals, would some day succumb to the ravages of death. One day, the gears of Mechanus would grind to a halt and rust into nothingness. To those who would extend their own life beyond their allotted time, pervert their souls to live as a deathless corpse, the modrons sent the Marut, the tireless and relentless hunters of the dead.

But the Planes carry many oathbreakers and criminals, and _many_ who would evade death if they could. To hunt all of them would strain the creation forges to their breaking point.

So Mechanus created the Investigators. When a creature is _suspected_ of violating the laws of Mechanus, an Investigator would seek the truth, to determine if one of the Inevitables must be sent to deal with them.

So as the modrons cleaned the remains of the force sent after Rocket, Investigator 13 was called to the office of their immediate superior. Investigator 13 was informed that while Rocket had stolen from the modrons, had been offensive to them, he had not violated his bargain with Mechanus. That they could not _prove_ the theft to the satisfaction of the dispatcher of the Zelekhut. And so it was Investigator 13's task to determine if Rocket had violated any of the Inevitables' Laws.

Investigator 13 was called because Investigator 13, while...idiosyncratic, was the most thorough and exacting of all Investigators. Investigator 13 would not make a report until they had made an accounting of their target's entire life - every crime and sin to be weighed against the target.

Investigator 13, however, was growing vexed. 'Rocket' was not the creature's true name; not knowing what that name was made tracking his path through history difficult. There was no creature Investigator 13 could find that was enough like Rocket to identify his race; not knowing that limited what other, subtler divinations could discover about him. And no one who had ever met Rocket had heard him speak of his home plane; not knowing that made it impossible to seek those who had known him, who could identify his place of birth or other details that might make further divinations helpful.

Investigator 13 was thus forced to rely on… _rumor_. Having slain Ronan the Accuser, Rocket had notoriety beyond his work as a bounty hunter, and with the right magic, one could listen to the whispers spoken of him across the Planes. It was a long, laborious process, taking nearly two months, and the information was frustratingly vague.

Except for one phrase.

"Born betwixt three wyrms…"

A creature with such skill in the crafting and use of magic devices as Rocket had was unusual, but there was a place where such skill was more commonplace, where the world itself was said to be the corpse of an ancient wyrm, another set within the constellations, and a third bound within the depths of the earth.

It was difficult to reach from any plane other than the Astral or Deep Ethereal, connecting to the rest of the Planes in strange and unpredictable ways. But in the interest of discovering whether their target was worth the attentions of the Inevitables, Investigator 13 made the journey.

They arrived at the one place all visitors to this Prime Material spoke of - a city of glittering towers of stone and glass, stretching far higher than even the most cunning architect could engineer. A great island floated above the city, the towers there stretching so much further to pierce the heavens.

If there was knowledge to be discovered about Rocket, it would be in Sharn, the City of Towers.


End file.
